


Yakuza Laundromat

by dgalerab



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Punk Kenma?, Who knows but they meet over laundry, doctor Kuroo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab
Summary: It may be hard to get up on time to do laundry, but Kuroo isn't sure that going to a seedy 24 hour laundry place in the dead of night was the solution. At least, not until someone rescues him.





	Yakuza Laundromat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [risquetendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/gifts).



> Wow it's been a while since I've written KuroKen. Somehow I never write my favorite ship until people ask me too.
> 
> Written for the lovely risquetendencies. :)

Kuroo Tetsurou, aged 27, accomplished surgeon, wakes to the noise of his wretched alarm clock yet again and considers, very thoroughly, that he may burst into tears.

He stares at the phone beside him, and as it grows louder and louder in its heartless efforts to get him out of bed, his arms only feel heavier with each beep. Finally, he manages to reach over and turn it off, but even after sitting up he finds himself sitting in bed, dazed, contemplating his life choices.

It’s too damn early. Does he really need clean clothes? Maybe he can just go back to bed and buy some new underwear instead of washing it. What would that buy him? One hour of sleep? Two hours of sleep?

Gods, he’s going to die.

He grunts and pulls himself out of bed. At the very least he’d had the foresight to load his laundry into a bag, he thinks, once he’s gotten dressed and hauled said bag onto his shoulders.

He’ll buy a coffee and breakfast on the way to the Laundromat and eat there, he thinks, staggering onto the train and dropping his bag between his legs as he sits and dozes off again.

The line in the café is too long and he doesn’t notice the cashier is flirting with him until he walks right out with a sandwich and a latte and finds her number on his cup. “Well,” he mutters to the empty air. “She thinks I’m an asshole.”

He does his laundry, slowly but surely, and makes his way back home. The coffee takes some of the edge off of his exhaustion, but he can’t shake the realization he’s come to.

This is too damn early to do laundry.

-X-

There’s only two ways he can do laundry. Before his shift or after his shift. If before his shift is too early, then that leaves after his shift. In the dead of night. At a shady 24 hour Laundromat.

At least, it _had_ seemed like a solution right up until the moment he’d found himself sitting on a bench at the nearest 24 hour place, waiting for a machine to open up. The guy next to him has, like, fifteen tattoos. Is he a Yakuza? Does he think Tetsurou is a Yakuza? Why is Tetsurou’s bedhead so damn confrontational?

Is he really willing to die for a just a little more sleep?

Someone touches his shoulder and he nearly screams, but when he looks it’s just a fairly short, sort of pretty guy with badly bleached hair. He looks sort of scary too, with sharp eyes and a piercing through his bottom lip, but he also looks too bored to pick a fight. He gestures with his thumb behind him. “There’s a machine open,” he says, his voice so quiet Tetsurou can barely hear him. He doesn’t make eye contact.

“W-weren’t you here first?” Tetsurou stammers.

“Yeah, but you look like you might pass out if you don’t get out of here soon,” the guy says.

“Right,” Tetsurou says weakly. So much for being mistaken for a Yakuza.

He hauls his bag onto his shoulder and walks over to the open machine. Once he’s loaded his laundry, he glances back at the guy.

He’s sitting on the bench, playing something on a red DS. The longer Tetsurou looks, the prettier the guy seems.

A washing machine beside him goes off with a long beep, startling Tetsurou out of his staring. Someone unpacks their laundry, and then the pretty guy sidles up with a trashbag full of laundry.

Tetsurou finds himself watching the guy’s hands as he loads his clothes into the washing machine. At first it was just to appreciate the long fingers, but after a few handfuls it turns more into horror. “You’re washing whites and color together?”

The guy shoots him a withering look. This is the first time he’s actually made eye contact, and it sends butterflies through Tetsurou’s stomach. Maybe he was a little hasty writing this guy off as not dangerous. “I wash it all cold anyway,” the guy mumbles.

“Yeah, but… you…” He looks away, watching his clothes rattle about in the washing machine. “Nevermind.”

The guy looks away without further comment, continuing to load his clothes. Tetsurou watches him out of the corner of his eye. “At _least_ don’t put jeans in with fine clothes…” he mutters.

The guy’s head snaps around. “Are you serious?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tetsurou says, backing away with his hands up. Honestly, this guy looks like he might have a knife on him, what with the eyeliner and piercings and the fact that he’s doing laundry in the dead of night. “They’re your clothes, do whatever.”

 The guy looks at him with a look that’s somewhere between confused and annoyed. He scoffs. “You’re pretty lame, aren’t you?” he says, closing the washing machine door and squatting in front of it, not looking at Tetsurou.

“Huh?” Tetsurou says weakly.

“What are you even doing here this late, if you’re so scared?”

“I…”  Tetsurou says, shoulders sagging. “I just really couldn’t wake up early enough every week.”

The guy laughs. “You do your laundry every week, huh?”

“Well… yeah?” Tetsurou says. He raises an eyebrow. “How often do you do your laundry?”

The guy shrugs. “When I get around to it. I don’t like dragging my laundry across town.”

“Why not go somewhere closer, then?” Tetsurou asks, leaning on the washing machine. The guy still isn’t looking at him, but he seems to be ok with this conversation.

“There’s a place with good food nearby,” the guy says, scratching something off the washer’s window.

“Oh,” Tetsurou says. There’s a long silence. Maybe his new acquaintance doesn’t mind talking to Tetsurou, but he’s definitely not going to put effort into it. “Why so late?”

“I don’t like getting up early either.”

“What do you do that keeps you up this late?”

“Yakuza.”

Tetsurou’s heart skips a beat. “Really?” he squeaks.

The guy looks up at him with a dry look. “No. Web design.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou breaths. “Ok, yeah, that makes more sense.”

The guy almost quirks a smile. “How about you?”

“Uh… doctor,” he says. “I work at the ER.”

“Huh,” the guy says. “Not what I would have expected. That actually takes a pretty strong stomach.”

“Ahaaaa,” Tetsurou says dryly. “I’m not a total loser. I just… I’ve never been in a Laundromat this late. It’s creepy, ok?”

“Sure,” the guy says. He’s no longer looking at Tetsurou. “I’m Kenma by the way. Kozume Kenma.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Tetsurou offers. “So, Kozume…”

“Kenma,” Kozume corrects.

“Uhhhhh…”

“I don’t like that sort of formal thing,” Kozume says. “Kenma is fine.”

“Right,” Tetsurou squeaks. He feels extremely forward using the name of the frankly kind of alluring stranger he’s just met, especially as Kenma pushes his hair behind his ear, revealing several ear piercings, including one that has a small chain running from the tip of Kenma’s ear to the bottom. “Sure.”

“You’re blushing, Kuro-san,” Kenma says, with a small smile.

“Kuroo,” Tetsurou says. “Or… actually, you know what… whatever. It’s whatever. Call me… whatever.”

“I like Kuro,” Kenma says. “It goes with your hair.” He looks Tetsurou up and down while still avoiding eye contact somehow. “How long does it take to style it like that?”

“Huh?” Tetsurou says, looking at his bangs. “Oh, this is bedhead.”

Kenma’s eyes fix on his own, round as the coins they’re using. He looks a little like Tetsurou has just told him he’s won the lottery. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says, sighing. “I can’t get rid of it at all.”

Kenma blinks at him for a few beats, then looks away again. “Do you want to come eat with me after this?”

“Oh,” Tetsurou says. “Sure.”

-X-

Kenma takes him to some kind of odd pizza place. There’s weird tinted windows and strange techno music and there are all kinds of things hanging from the ceiling, including a giant shark model and a rusty bicycle. It looks a little like a place where a sci-fi hacker would arrange a clandestine meeting with the mafia.

What if Kenma _wasn’t_ kidding about the Yakuza part?

Tetsurou takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. The random guy he met at the Laundromat is _not_ a sci-fi Yakuza hacker, even if he wears eyeliner and probably has a tattoo somewhere.

Kenma sits him down at one of the booths, and before he knows it, Tetsurou is blurting out, “Do you have a tattoo somewhere?”

Kenma settles into the booth, feet up on the seat beside him, and calmly takes out his DS. “Yeah,” he says.

“Can I see it?” Tetsurou asks.

“Not in public.”

Tetsurou’s brain has blown a fuse.

“I want a lemonade and one of these,” Kenma says, pointing at the menu. “Could you order for me?”

Tetsurou grins. “Are you shy?”

“I don’t like talking to people,” Kenma says.

“Ok,” Tetsurou laughs. “I’ll order for you.”

Kenma doesn’t really react, but something about his aura indicates that he’s pleased. Tetsurou orders for him and once they get their meal, they eat in relative silence. Tetsurou is getting sleepy again, and it’s hard to carry the conversation on his own. Not to mention he doesn’t think Kenma wants to talk anymore.

“How far do you live?” Kenma asks.

“Uhh… about five stops down,” Tetsurou says, yawning.

“I’ll take you.”

“Huh?” Tetsurou says.

“I’ll take you home. It’ll be kind of annoying with the extra bag but it’s fine.” He glances at Tetsurou. “Ask for the bill and I’ll pay.”

Tetsurou stares at him. “You _are_ shy,” he says, grinning.

“And you’re obnoxious,” Kenma replies.

Tetsurou laughs, earning a disgusted look that’s almost fond somehow. “I’m flattered that somehow you scraped up the courage to talk to me,” he says.

“Yeah, you looked really intimidating hiding behind your backpack too,” Kenma says with a scowl. “Bill.”

Tetsurou is still laughing when he flags down the waitress and a little when they finally leave. Outside, though, Kenma makes a beeline to a motorcycle, and he’s nervous all over again. Kenma unlatches a helmet from where it had been hung on the handlebars, and hands it to Tetsurou. “Here,” he says. “Since you scare easy.”

“Oh boy,” Tetsurou whispers, but he has to admit this will be faster than the train.

“Where are we going?” Kenma asks, unlocking the motorcycle and straddling it.

Tetsurou gives him the address, wondering if he’s going to die tonight after all, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. Kenma’s laundry is tied tightly behind him, forcing him to slide forward and grab Kenma’s waist. “Before I die will you tell me where your tattoo is?”

“Calm down,” Kenma says, and takes off, forcing Tetsurou to hold on for dear life, pressing the helmet between Kenma’s shoulder blades.

Kenma drives more carefully than Tetsurou had expected, but it’s Tetsurou’s first time on the motorcycle nonetheless and when Kenma finally lets him get off in front of Tetsurou’s apartment building, he’s still shaking like jelly.

“Oh by the way,” Kenma says, as Tetsurou struggles out of the helmet. “People won’t kill you at night in a Laundromat, but they will pick your pockets, so be careful.” He tosses Tetsurou back his own phone. “I’ll take you next time, if you’re scared to go alone.”

And with that he’s gone, with only a gentle humming left behind. Tetsurou scrambles to check his phone, and indeed there’s a number saved under _Yakuza_. Tetsurou really, really hopes he’s joking, and renames it to _Kenma._

-X-

Tetsurou does text him a few times, but Kenma is only slightly more talkative over text. The next week rolls around, and Kenma swoops by to drop him off and take him home in exchange for Tetsurou’s ability to talk to waitresses.

They continue this odd ritual weekly, even though Kenma doesn’t always bring his own laundry, and Tetsurou has slowly been wondering how to ask Kenma if this is dating and if not then could there be something else that _is_ dating.

Maybe he should ask over text? Kenma doesn’t seem like he’d mind working through an awkward situation over text.

He’s still thinking about this while he’s heading to his shift, still yawning as he walks off the bleariness from sleeping on the train.

He gets through three patients before 9, taking a moment to stretch before seeing the next patient, a kid with a broken arm. Before he even gets in, he can see a shock of bright orange hair and he can hear arguing. Likely the nurses let in someone with the kid. “Hey there,” he says, looking at the chart as he walks in. “I’m Dr. Kuroo Tetsurou and…”

“Oh!” says the kid with an excited shout. “The hot g…”

Tetsurou looks up, meeting Kenma’s eyes at the exact moment Kenma slaps his hand over his friend’s mouth so hard he nearly knocks him off the bed.

“Oh,” Tetsurou says. “Uh. Hi.”

“Hi,” Kenma says. He’s wearing shorts and a hoodie, and Tetsurou can see the edges of a tattoo just barely poking out, running down his thigh.

Tetsurou is a professional who gets to look at a surprising amount of asses without blinking an eye, but right now he thinks he might combust if he doesn’t manage to wrench his eyes away from that tattoo.

“Arm,” he blurts, trying to remind himself that he’s on the job. “Right, yeah. You… your arm. You broke your arm.”

“I sure did, Dr. Hot Guy,” says the kid happily, brandishing the offending limb.

“ _Shouyou,_ ” Kenma whispers, looking utterly mortified.

“Hot Guy, huh?” Tetsurou says with a grin as he takes a hold of Shouyou’s arm.

“Kenma has a thing for tall people,” Shouyou informs him.

“Oh yeah?” Tetsurou laughs, side-eying Kenma.

“Oh, and also people who are terrified,” Shouyou says.

“Don’t say it like that, you’re going to make me sound like a serial killer,” Kenma sighs.

“Why?” Shouyou asks, with an adorable innocence. “It’s just because it’s easier to talk to someone when they’re more nervous than you.”

“That makes sense,” Tetsurou chuckles. “Anyway, let’s get you some X-rays.”

“Oh and also Kenma has a thing for people who will talk for him,” Shouyou says, bouncing off the bed. He’s the liveliest patient Tetsurou has had in a while.

“Shouyou, shut _up_.”

“And doctors!”

-X-

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed,” Tetsurou says, once he’s gotten Shouyou into a cast and handed him back to the nurses.

Kenma glares at him from under his hair. “Shut up.”

“Anyway,” Tetsurou says, rubbing at his neck. “Uh… I hope all that means you’d be ok with me taking you on a date sometime?”

“I’ve been paying for your meals this whole time,” Kenma grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Oh,” Tetsurou says. “I thought that was just in exchange for me ordering.”

“I _can_ talk to people,” Kenma snaps, then looks at his hands. “But yes, kind of.”

“How about I order and pay?” Tetsurou asks. “And maybe you come over for uh… a movie or something? I’m free on Saturday.”

“We could get take-out,” Kenma suggests.

“Yeah, that… that sounds good,” Tetsurou says.

Kenma smiles softly and nods. “That sounds good.”

-X-

Tetsurou just manages to clean before Kenma comes over on Saturday and then throws on his best shirt and jeans. He skids to the door when he hears the doorbell, finding Kenma wearing shorts and a nicer long-sleeved shirt.

“Um,” Tetsurou says.

Kenma is wearing a softer shade of eyeliner and it makes his whole face look softer, even with the piercings. He flicks his hair out of his eyes and hands Tetsurou a bouquet of roses. “You seemed like you’d like this sort of thing,” he mutters, quieter than usual. He’s nervous too, it seems.

“I do,” Tetsurou says, taking the roses. “I’ll get a vase for these. Make yourself comfortable.”

Kenma shuffles inside, looking around while Tetsurou finds a place to put the flowers. When he gets back, he finds Kenma standing in the middle of his living room, blushing.

“This is sort of backwards,” Kenma says, fiddling with his shirt. “But if I don’t show you quickly I’ll get too nervous to.”

“Huh?” Tetsurou says, before Kenma pulls off his shirt in the middle of Tetsurou’s apartment. Tetsurou’s brain screeches to a halt with a sickening crunch.

Kenma turns around, showing him a large tattoo of a black cat that ends just under his ribs and extends under his pants. “I’m not showing you the other half on the first date,” Kenma says, turning around and pulling back on his shirt.

Tetsurou gapes at him like a very bewildered fish. “Huh?” he tries again.

Kenma rolls his eyes. “You’re too attractive to be such goofball,” he says, suddenly stepping forward to press Tetsurou against the wall with a thud, kissing him too hard and too fast for Tetsurou to even have a hope of mustering the brain power necessary to figure out where he should put his hands and what he should be doing with his own mouth.

Kenma pulls away, leaving Tetsurou a fizzling mass of nerves sliding down the wall.

“Did you order?” Kenma asks, though at least he looks ruffled too, his lips red with kissing.

“Y-yeah,” Tetsurou says. “It’s… it’s in the kitchen and… we can… on the couch.”

“Great,” Kenma says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

Tetsurou is going to _die_.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or come talk to me on [Tumblr](http://dgalerab.tumblr.com/)!


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